Ghost
by Michaela pendragon Holmes
Summary: Sherlock and John are dead, Molly is a Half Angel and Mycroft is an ass
1. Chapter 1: Hit and Miss?

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

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Chapter One: Hit and..Miss?

"Come on, John!" Sherlock Holmes called out. He and his best friend were running through an old, musty paper factory, chasing a bank thief.

"Stop!" John yelled.

"John," argued a slightly out-of breath Sherlock, "you know that never works."

Just then, the thief actually came to a sudden stop. John glanced at Sherlock with a smug smirk.

"I stand corrected," admitted the detective.

"I hope you said goodbye!" the thief shouted as he raised his gun. Before Sherlock and John had time to react, two shots rang out through the building, then silence.

"Ha!" Sherlock laughed, "Great aim, dumbass! You missed us completely!"

"Sherlock, you bastard, what did I say?" John angrily yelled at him, "'We should never go without backup,' I said, 'we're going to get ourselves killed,' I said. Now look at us!" he ranted.

"John, don't tell me how to live my life!" the indignant detective replied, his eyes still focused on the thief.

"Sherlock! You're a ghost!" John yelled, "I'm a ghost!"

"What? No," Sherlock denied, "he missed."

"Look down."

The detective did just that, and saw his and John's bodies lying dead and bloody on the ground. A bullet hole sat square squarely in the center of Sherlock's forehead, while John's fatal wound appeared to be a shot through his eye.

"Damn it," he muttered, "That guy was a very good shot for a generic bank robber." As he sulked, a smile began to pull at the corners of his mouth. "Let's go haunt Molly."

"I'm sorry, what?!" John asked.

"Let's. go. haunt. Molly." Sherlock repeated, emphasizing every word.

"We just DIED, and your first thought is to go haunt Molly?!" John yelled with incredulous anger, "How are you okay with this?!"

"Yeah, why not? It'll be fun. It's okay!"

"No… no, this is not okay!" John shouted harshly, running his hand through his hair and walking away from Sherlock as he tried to contain his anger.

"Well," Sherlock replied, as he closely followed John, "You have no choice." With that, he grabbed the doctor's ghost's arm, and they both dissolved with a vroosh.

From the POV of John Watson

We went through a wormhole of sorts. It was black and white, and yet filled with all the colors of the spectrum. It was as dark as the deepest chasm, and yet bright as the sun all at once. I felt scared, but comforted. There were glorious, gorgeous Angels, and hideous, horrifying demons. It was beautiful, and it was gone too fast.

We suddenly found ourselves in St. Bart's morgue.

"What the hell?" I wondered aloud, "How did you do that?" I yelled at Sherlock.

"No time to explain now. Molly will be coming through that door any second."

If you weren't already dead, I'd kill you, I thought to myself.

Just then, Molly walked through the door.

"This is going to be hilarious," Sherlock snickered.

"I am not going to be a part of this!" I snarled, still in disbelief at his complete lack of understanding of the gravity of our situation.

"Fine, suit yourself," Sherlock replied as he snuck behind Molly. He blew a soft stream into her ear.

"What the krap?!" she yelped in surprise.

Then, with a grin, Sherlock swung his arm, flinging autopsy tools off a nearby table.

"Oh, hell no." Molly declared in an annoyed voice.

"Now to really scare her," Sherlock said to me with a grin. He stepped in front of her, and drew in a deep breath. His next words echoed with a loud, unearthly quality that even Molly, still alive, could hear.

"Get OUT, or I will k–"

"Sherlock, cut the crap!" Molly said indignantly, without the slightest flinch of fear.

~MJS


	2. Chapter 2: Scolding

Chapter Two: Scolding

"Wait, how does she know…?" John blurted out.

"Oh, great!" Molly commented sarcastically, "you got John killed this time too?!"

She sat down on her office chair with a small sigh, her face the picture of annoyance. "Gosh, Sherlock, it's bad enough with you, and now John! Show yourself right now, Sherlock!" she commanded, crossing her arms to wait.

"Okay," Sherlock replied sulkily, his ghostly form becoming visible.

"Sherlock," Molly sighed with resignation, "Where are the bodies?"

"Morgue drawers 32 and 35," Sherlock replied, gesturing to the drawers where he had shoved his and John's bodies after dragging them through the wormhole. Molly got up and walked towards the drawers.

"Um, excuse me, I have a few questions," John piped up.

"I know, John, and I promise to explain everything once you're alive," Molly answered.

"Alive?" John questioned, "How on earth ar–"

"Shut up, John, and let Molly do her work," Sherlock interrupted.

From the POV of John Watson

Molly walked over to the bodies and did the most amazing thing I've ever seen. She put her hands on the gunshot wounds, and her hands started to glow with a soft, golden light. Mine and Sherlock's corpses started to glow, as well. I became woozy and dizzy, and then everything, suddenly, went black.

The next thing I knew, I was awoken by the sound of Molly Hooper scolding Sherlock Holmes.

"Sherlock, your intelligence is like a pair of underpants," she told him, "It's important that you have it, but not necessary that you show it off! You knew that this was going to happen, didn't you?!"

"No," the tall detective replied indignantly, " I had no–"

Molly silenced him with a stern look.

"Alright, fine," he admitted, "but I didn't plan for it to happen until later!" Sherlock looked at Molly rather apprehensively. I have the strangest suspicion that, despite all his bravado, Sherlock Holmes is in some capacity terrified by angry Molly Hooper.

"Oh, you ass!" she exclaimed, looking like she was about to launch into a thorough tongue-lashing.

"Oh look! John's up!" Sherlock nervously laughed, glancing at me as I sat up. "John, how are you feeling?"

"I guess I'm okay," I replied, though my head felt like it was filled with a heavy fog. "What happened?"

"Do you not remember anything?" Sherlock questioned me.

"No, not really," I answered him, "I remember us chasing the thief, and then everything went black." I groaned slightly as I slid to my feet. My muscles all felt stiff and sore.

"We don't have to tell him," Sherlock said quietly as he looked at Molly.

Molly rolled her eyes in reply. "No, he deserves to know," she insisted, looking at me with an unreadable expression.

"Deserves to know what?" I asked, becoming more confused by the minute as I realized I had been lying on a morgue drawer.

Molly ran her fingers through her hair as she began to explain.

"Well, John, you see," she said, pausing as if to find the right way of phrasing something. Before she found her words, however, Sherlock butted in.

"Molly is half angel."

~MJS


	3. Chapter 3: Explanation

A/N: Sorry for the late post got busy. But I have a good chapter for y'all.

Chapter three: Explanation

"Sherlock!" Molly exclaimed, "You can't just blurt that out!" She stared at him huffily, her arms crossed in frustration.

John looked back and forth between the two in confusion. "Okay," he said, "someone had better give me an explanation this instant."

"Alright, don't get your pants in a twist," Sherlock replied languidly as he slumped against the wall. He was jarred for an instant by a still irate Molly smacking his arm.

"Sherlock, shut it." she commanded, shooting daggers at him with her eyes. Her expression softened as she turned to the confused doctor. "John, will you please sit," she asked gently as she gestured to a home stool near John. She gave a jerkier, wordless gesture to Sherlock to sit down next to her on a bench.

After everyone was seated, she took a deep breath to steady herself. "So," she began, "as Sherlock so delicately told you, I am half angel." Before John had a chance to interrupt and question this seemingly impossible assertion, she continued, "And, how that is possible is that, well, my mom was an angel that came to help my dad find love, but instead, they ended up falling for each other. They got married and I came along, but because I was half human there were complications." Molly paused for a moment, her words having become shaky. Sherlock was watching her intently, and as she traced the shape of a pendent she wore around her neck, he gently took her hand and held it in his. She glanced up at him for an instant, before taking a shaky breath and resuming her story. "After I was born she had to leave. My father never told me why. I was raised by my father, but because I'm half angel, there were some difficulties in my childhood that stemmed from me not knowing how to control my powers."

"What are your powers?" John interrupted, his curiosity overcoming him as he tried to figure out if Molly was telling the truth, or if all of this was an elaborate prank orchestrated by Sherlock.

Molly glanced at Sherlock before looking back to John. "Well, other than being able to revive the dead," she told him, "I can heal any illness, I can talk to the spirits of the dead, I can see demons, I can tell what's making someone sick just by looking at them, I can see it when a woman is pregnant, and I can move things with my mind. The only problem is that because I'm only half angel, I can't bring back the dead if they've been dead for more than 27 hours."

Oddly enough, as it seemed to Molly, John Watson seemed remarkably calm. "Okay," he said calmly, "so continue. You didn't know how to control your powers."

Molly glanced at Sherlock, but he merely shrugged in reply. She crossed her legs and adjusted her position on the sofa.

"Well, because I couldn't control it," she explained, "I would move things without knowing it, and I wouldn't know how to stop seeing who was sick. Because of that, it just wasn't safe for me to be around other people most of the time, so my dad had to homeschool me. It was hard on both of us," Molly said as she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, "My dad was a doctor, and so I wanted to follow in his footsteps. I loved medicine, but my ability to cure any illness, well, that would be rather suspicious. So, in the end, I chose pathology.

Molly paused in her telling of her story, and Sherlock knowingly squeezed her hand. Her fingers curled tighter around his for support as she continued.

"I was nineteen when my father died. I just fell into even deeper application to my studies. I breezed through my bachelor's degree at a very fast pace, but started holding myself back early in med school. I was attracting too much attention, and well," she paused again, glancing at the floor, and fiddling with her nails on one hand. "I still publish some relatively high-profile medical journals from time to time, but it's better if I don't stand out too much in my field."

John looked at her in amazement, his already profound respect for Molly deepening into sheer awe. After a moment, he gathered his thoughts, and relaxed on the stool a bit. He uncrossed his arms and leaned forward a bit.

"So," he asked out of curiosity, "How did you and Sherlock meet?"

Molly opened her mouth as if about to speak, but Sherlock began to talk first.

"We were both in Uni," he said, "and one night, I stumbled into her room, thinking it was mine. I was rather high at the time, and after I took another shot, I passed out on the floor. Not long afterwards, she arrived back in her room, took one look at me, and saved me from overdosing. We exchanged a bit of history, and have just kept crossing paths ever since."

~MJS


	4. Chapter 4: John's Reaction

**A/N: Super sorry for the wait and short chapter, Had a bit writer's block, and I've been very busy as of late. Please enjoy and please R &R I love reading your thoughts! (That doesn't sound creepy) **

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**Chapter four: John's Reaction**

John was silent, his face almost unreadable. Sherlock tried to read him, But he still didn't know how he would react. "Sherlock?" Molly whispered "Why is he so silent" "silent" they said at the same time.

"I don't know," Sherlock said. A few more moments of silence passed, then finally, John took a breath.

"So Molly is an half angel, and– Wait, is that how Sherlock faked his death?!" John asked. Molly looked guilty but Sherlock looked pleased.

"That's correct," the detective answered smugly, "I'm glad the many years being my friend has finally paid off." Molly rolled her eyes and elbowed him in the rib.

"Alright," John sighed, "So how long have you been dying and having Molly bring you back to life?" he inquired.

Sherlock looked at Molly. "Well after she saved me–"

Molly interrupted him, "He really doesn't need to know."

"Of course he does," Sherlock insisted.

"...'He' is right here," said the doctor, referring to himself in the third person as he looked between the two.

Sherlock shook his head at Molly. She sighed, but obliged him by continuing her tale. "You see, afterwards, I really didn't know what to do. I had no way to contact any people he knew. So I was just going to leave him on the floor and wait until he woke up to send him on his way. "I thought it would be simple," Molly sighed. "However, when he woke up, he proved to be anything but easy to deal with." She paused, smiling with amusement at the memory. "He did not leave without a fight, let me tell you.

Initially, I sat down to wait for him to wake up, but when it became obvious that he wouldn't be waking up anytime soon, I decided to try to examine him. I tried to not move him too much, but what examining I could do showed that he had probably been taking heavy doses of drugs for a couple of months, at least. If he had not stumbled into my room by accident, he would almost surely have been rotting in some back alleyway. I searched his pockets, and found a bag of cocaine, a syringe, and his wallet. I threw away the drug, and in his wallet I found his student ID.

It said his name was Sherlock Holmes, and that's when I realized that I knew him. He was my lab partner in chemistry, although he never spoke to me unless he needed to. I hadn't seen him in a month or two, and I wasn't surprised that I didn't recognize him. He looked like hell.

Suddenly, he woke up. Although he was clearly very out of it, surprisingly, he called out my name. Then, he opened his eyes, and I helped him up. I managed to get him into the bathroom, where he promptly vomited into the toilet. I helped him take off his clothes and get into the bathtub, and I washed him off with a washcloth and a bucket of soapy water. The water in the bucket was quickly made unusable, however, since he vomited twice more into it.

When he was finally decently clean, I got him dried off and dressed in some clothes that my brother had left after his most recent visit. They were a bit baggy, but they served their purpose. I managed to get him into my room, and to lie down on my bed. He drank a bit of water, and then quickly fell back to sleep. I cleaned up my dorm room, and then made some tea and ordered food to eat while I waited for him to wake up. As I sat eating, I couldn't stop wondering why he had called my name.

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 _ **~MJS**_


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